


Silent Steps Along the Way

by River_of_Dreams



Series: Patchworks [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chapter-specific warnings in chapter notes, Cut Scenes, Gen, supplementary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_of_Dreams/pseuds/River_of_Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the home for various cut scenes along the Where Are We Going from Here timeline. Which is not to say they didn’t happen. They just involve side characters whose stories I don’t want to explore within the main fic, trying to keep it somewhat concise (ahem). General content warnings, cut scene placement and warnings for possible WAWGFH spoilers will be included in the notes for each chapter.<br/>Sorry, very few (if any) of these scenes will make any sense to you without knowing the main fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably leave the overall rating at T, but beware of the occasional foul mouth that may slip my attention. Anything else that would require a higher rating or use of archive warnings will be marked together with other warnings in the notes to each chapter. The chapters will rarely be directly connected to each other, so you won't lose anything if you decide to skip one.  
> For the same reason I'll be marking the work as complete after every chapter. There may always be more, but no chapter is planned to have a direct continuation here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Michael comes, Gabriel takes the opportunity to have a little chat with Gadreel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Gabriel, Gadreel. Gadreel’s POV.  
> WAWFGH spoilers up to first half of ch. 27. Won’t make much sense until after ch. 26 and will leave you slightly confused if you don’t read ch. 27 first. No definite spoilers for the rest of the main story, but you’ll know what Gabriel’s stance on Gadreel is (or, at least, what he wants Gadreel to believe his stance on him is).  
> Content warning for heaps of angst. Gadreel isn’t mentally in a good place and Gabriel isn’t always exactly nice.

It’s the archangel who offers to stay with him when the planning is over and the others leave for their own rooms, the Winchesters to prepare for their prayer and the rest of them for reasons of their own.

Gadreel stays in his chair, folded carefully within his vessel in a futile attempt at inconspicuousness, and waits for Gabriel’s move.

He saw enough of Sam’s memories of the Trickster to know this isn’t the brother he remembers. He’s even read the previous Prophet’s books after Gabriel escaped his prison to learn more about him, about his current capabilities, about the trouble he is likely to cause Metatron’s side. What he found out wasn’t reassuring.

He wonders if Gabriel holds it against him that he led the strike trying to keep him captive, and if so, what he’ll do to him in revenge. That he didn’t seem against cooperating with Gadreel is promising, it might mean Gadreel’s life isn’t in danger at least, but it doesn’t make him safe from any lesser lessons Gabriel deems necessary. He knows that if the archangel decides to punish him, he can’t afford to fight back.

The silence between them is oppressive like prison walls.

Maybe Gabriel is content just observing him, nothing more, and Gadreel doesn’t have anything to fear from him unless he tries to walk out of the Bunker or enter any of the restricted areas.

As if believing in his siblings’ best intentions ever ended well for him.

“Wanna go watch a movie?“

Gadreel blinks and cautiously glances at Gabriel, whose expression doesn’t betray anything more than casual interest.

He knows what the offer would mean from a human. He has no idea how to read it from an angel. Most of all it reminds him of Metatron’s love of stories, and that makes him shudder. His first impulse is to decline, but is it wise? What if it is a peace offering, the way it would be from a human, and he’ll offend the archangel if he turns him down? What if it isn’t an offer as much as a hidden command? What if it is some sort of test the purpose of which he cannot comprehend?

But if it is a test, it’s not only the meaning that escapes him but the right answer as well, and under the circumstances he’d rather be judged for the truth than a lie.

“No, thank you. But if you wish to do so, we can relocate.“

Gabriel snorts. “Nah. Suit yourself.“ He hops down from the table and sprawls across two chairs at once, seated in one and his booted feet on the other, and for a moment he studies the ceiling, his head supported by the edge of the backrest, while Gadreel studies him in turn, fascinated against his better judgment.

He wonders if any angel would show such a familiarity with his body after being envesseled for so long, or if it is something unique to Gabriel.

It takes his mind from guessing whether he gave the right answer. He’s still quick to avert his gaze when Gabriel gives him a sharp look down his nose.

“So. Using my horn to lure in the kids and kill them. Wouldn’t peg you for an executioner.“

Gadreel freezes, even though he knew something like this was coming.

“Our siblings were already killing each other,“ he says quietly. “I believed the faster they are gathered under Metatron’s rule, the sooner will the murders end, the fewer dead it will cost in the long run.“ He doesn’t dare to look at Gabriel. “I didn’t enjoy the killings, but at the time they seemed unavoidable.“

He doesn’t bother to defend himself, to try to put the blame on Metatron. Metatron may have given him those arguments, but he was the one to accept the reasoning and act on it.

“Yeah, because it makes it so much better that you didn’t have fun slaughtering them,“ Gabriel comments, voice low.

“It doesn’t.“ Now Gadreel does look at him; he has to. “I’m not asking for anything but to be allowed to help. I received my second chance and I turned wrong, I know that. What reasons I had, they don’t matter. But what I can do yet, it matters. I can be useful, I swear.“

“Geeez,“ Gabriel breathes out and returns to watching the ceiling. “One more flagellant, exactly what we needed. You get it that you were incredibly easy for Metatron to manipulate, right? With the entire Host happy to end you on the spot if they recognized you and our favourite trigger happy Winchester breathing down your neck, you could either lie down belly up and wait to die or join the one guy who wanted you alive. You think anyone would do any better?“

It is a test. It must be a test. But this time Gadreel knows how to answer.

“It doesn’t matter. It was me who made that decision, not anybody else.“

Gabriel groans and closes his eyes, and just for a moment Gadreel is allowed to hope the conversation is over. Then Gabriel opens his mouth again.

“Yeah, right. Because all the sins of the world are your fault.“ His tone, if Gadreel isn’t mistaken, is at least halfway to irony, but it doesn’t take the sting out of the words.

“All but the first,“ he stiffly corrects the statement. “Lucifer’s rebellion wasn’t my doing.“

“Aaaargh. Listen.” Gabriel doesn’t let out anything of his true voice or his wings, but the intensity of his eyes, even within a vessel, is unnerving enough. “You were tricked, misjudged, tortured, run into a corner, then offered a way out. More than a way out. Believe me, very few wouldn’t take it – and most of those who would wouldn’t bother to feel bad about it. Does it make you an innocent? Hells no. You’ve killed, you played a big part in the mess we’re dealing with, you’re gonna have to watch your back for the rest of your life if you don’t want to end up with a blade in it and sorry, buddy, you kind of deserve the treatment. But you’re also a victim. It sucks just as much as being the bad guy, but be so nice and put the blame where it belongs. Spoiler: It’s not on you. Not all of it. Live with it.“

Gadreel’s chest hurts as if there was a void in the middle of it, trying to crush him from the inside. He doesn’t know what to do with the sensation. Alarmed by its intensity, he unfolds to fill the vessel to the boundaries of skin, hoping to heal it if anything is wrong, but it doesn’t help. It would allow him to ignore the feeling if he wished, but it doesn’t make it go away.

He’s saved from the need to react to Gabriel’s words by the prayer starting, and he lets the relief wash over him as he listens to the voices he knows so well: Dean’s even more beautiful, more compelling now that it isn’t tinged with desperation, and Sam’s, pure and gentle like forgiveness.

There’s not a word about him, which is what they agreed for strategic reasons. And maybe it’s just as well for Gadreel’s peace of mind. He knows neither brother would be able to mention him without hatred. It’s already more mercy than he deserves that at least Sam is willing to listen to him, ally with him; he can’t expect the tentative acceptance to extend further than those outer actions.

In the silence after the prayer, he feels stable enough to ask:

“Didn’t you spend centuries punishing people like me?“

Gabriel lifts his head and gives him a crooked smile.

“Not like you. Trickster rules: You don’t go after them if they show regret. You especially don’t go after them when they try to mop up their messes.” He shrugs. “Sure, if you play us, I’ll put you into a world of pain. You think you’ve had it bad, you don’t know a thing. There are worse things to do to a guy than to carve him up and I’ve had a long time to perfect my gig. I have the juice, too. But if you’re really ours? Blank slate. You won’t get judgment from me.“

Which means everything to him, even though it doesn’t change a thing. It means a brother who is willing to accept him as he is, willing to if not forgive, then act as if he did.

He mercilessly crushes the spark of hope coming alive in him at that notion. He knows his fate. Gabriel’s acceptance humbles him, but it won’t save his life, not if Michael remains in command. Not unless he runs after the final battle, but once again he has nowhere to go.

“Thank you, brother,“ he says anyway, keeping the obvious to himself.

Dying not hated by all is worlds away from living as a hero, but if scraps is what he can get, then scraps he will take, and gratefully.

Gabriel watches him for a moment longer, gaze uncomfortably knowing. Then he hums to himself, leaving no clue as to the meaning of the sound, and returns to staring at the ceiling as if he could see Heaven through it.

The silence between them spreads once again, unbound by walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was never happier that they made Gadreel’s name spelled Gadreel (and not Gadriel, which is a perfectly valid option) than during writing this. Because having Gabriel and Gadreel in the same scene is enough of a nightmare with two letter difference between them. Imagine only one. Especially if the only difference was “d” and “b“.
> 
> Also… Anybody willing to tell me how they interpret the last sentence? Because I’m curious whether I managed to convey what I wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda for chapter 35 of WAWGFH. After everybody else leaves for the night, two angels have an opportunity to exchange a few words.
> 
> Spoilers, naturally, up to the end of chapter 35, including the identity of the two angels in question. Find that information in chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Gadreel, Michael. Gadreel’s POV.  
> Because I’m terribly procrastinating at writing the very last chapter of the main story. Also, real life was a bit too demanding those past few weeks. It will be better now, promise.

He’ll live. Free.

The thought leaves him reeling. He was so certain – he devoted the last days to enjoying the little freedom he allowed himself, pushed through the limits of his weakened being just so he could be outside. The damage to his Grace runs deeper than ever before and all he did so far was to look for ways to ignore it, to replace his missing strength with that of his vessel without harming the man.

Now, once more, he has the potential for eternity in front of him. The whole wide world, too, instead of a small patch of forest, as amazing as that was when looked at in detail.

The change of perspective is dizzying.

He barely notices the others leaving until it’s just Michael and Castiel in what seems like a silent stand-off. He glances from one to another in confusion, wondering what he’s missed, and Castiel’s posture shifts, relaxes as the younger angel nods to Gadreel.

“I’ll see you in the morning.“

It doesn’t sound like a threat. It sounds like a reassurance, like an offering, and Gadreel belatedly remembers Castiel tried to stand by him today. Arguing not for his life, but for his dignity. It feels just as significant, the proof he’s earned somebody’s respect.

As laughably little as he managed to do in the end, besides getting himself crippled.

“I… Yes. Thank you.“

Castiel departs with a last warning stare in Michael’s direction – acting as if Michael was still a threat to him, after he let the Prophet openly challenge his authority, his reasoning, his very worldview just to spare him. The unexpectedness of it is so jarring that Gadreel wonders if he reads it well, if there is some hidden motive he’s missed, because it’s something the Michael of old would never do. The General of Heaven isn’t known for mercy, not when he has both the right and the duty to kill.

Michael measures him, considers him, and he straightens on reflex, uncertain.

“Is this really kinder?“

Gadreel blinks, taken aback by the sign that Michael is no longer immune to doubt, no longer unwilling to let anybody know when he doesn’t understand something. Then he gives his attention to the question itself and finally realizes what is the former archangel referring to.

Gadreel is injured, irrevocably damaged, hardly even an angel anymore; most of his strength and part of his senses are lost forever. As a warrior, he is next to useless, at least compared to what he once was. He is in constant pain, too, a state so familiar from the endless years of torture that he hasn’t bothered to try to do something about it for the few days he thought he has left, and isn’t sure he’ll be able to do anything about now.

Michael probably saw the planned execution as a mercy, at least in part. And Gadreel can understand the reasoning: all of the above notwithstanding, he is sentenced to living in a world where every cruelty, every imperfection is a result of his mistake, and he will be next to powerless to change anything – he wouldn’t be allowed to change anything significant even if he had the stregth. He will be an outcast, too, cut off from the Host even more thoroughly than when he was in prison.

It scares him. And yet-

“Yes,“ he answers without doubt. Because it’s been millennia since he was at his full power, without injury or limitation. What he lost to Gabriel wasn’t being whole, it was hope he’ll ever be whole again. Very little of his current state is completely new to him. He’ll push through the same way he pushed through any previous wound or binding. He’ll have company this time, too. Not that of his own brothers and sisters, but of humanity. It’s easier on him than it would be on probably any other angel: he is used to solitude and he doesn’t think himself better than humans. Living as one of them is no shame to him; he’s actually looking forward to it. Maybe the trace he will leave will be small, but he can make it a good one.

Above all that, he never stopped wanting to live. He never stopped wanting another chance, as improbable as it seemed.

He doesn’t know what of his thoughts Michael can read in him, but eventually the former archangel lets go of some of his tension, going from tightly wound to merely somber.

“You may still die if your vessel refuses to host you.“

Gadreel dares to smile.

“He won’t. I already explained the situation to him before you called for me. I wanted to prepare him for regaining control. He was less than pleased.“

Michael looks surprised for a moment, then he smiles as well. The expression is slight but there, startling on his normally expressionless face.

“A willing vessel in this age and time. Who would have thought.“

Gadreel shrugs.

“He has his reasons. I’m grateful I have his support.“

“It used to be considered an honor by them,“ Michael returns, a sharp note of bitterness in his voice. Gadreel shrugs again.

“I wouldn’t know. But I think, considering the sacrifice a vessel makes, that the honor is ours. Definitely it is mine. I could hardly call him to the service of Heaven. I just asked for shelter - and I was accepted.”

Michael’s face turns blank and hard like marble.

“You are an angel. One of the first children of God. You are more than any of them could ever imagine.“

It’s not surprising to hear Lucifer’s conviction from Michael’s mouth. The two of them always have been similar. Gadreel deliberately softens his tone.

“I was an escaped prisoner when I came to this man for the first time and something worse when I came again. Both times he took me in, showed me kindness. He is imperfect, he’s made his own share of mistakes, but he turned that experience into compassion. I tried so hard to return to my former glory that I became a murderer for it. Which one of us is superior?“

Michael stares at him for a short while. In the end, his refusal to answer is answer enough. The difference between Michael and Lucifer was never open-mindedness after all, and definitely not humility. It was and still is Michael’s ability to recognize when he’s stepping over the line – when what he thinks diverges too far from what he is supposed to think – and his willingness to change course when it happens. Even if just by closing off his expression and switching to another topic.

“I will inform the Host of your sentence. I will make sure they understand it is accepted and sufficient. If an angel attacks you, you can assume they are either an outlaw or a rogue.”

And that, more than anything, is proof that Gadreel’s original impression was correct: Michael wants him alive. Wanted it enough to allow Kevin Tran his victory. Wants it enough to place him under his protection now that he has the right excuse.

Michael… cares. Beyond the abstract, beyond leading the Host as a whole, Michael cares for his individual existence, well-being, even.

They were close, once, as much as any of the archangels were able to be close to anybody who wasn’t part of their tight-knit circle. Maybe it’s a shadow of that, an unexpectedly surviving wisp of brotherhood in more than a name. Maybe it’s remorse, an attempt to compensate for millennia of unjust imprisonment. Either way it reveals a lack of hatred Gadreel can’t help but be thankful for – something to carry with him into exile. The second angel he somehow convinced of his worth.

Maybe even the third, if he can count Gabriel.

He inclines his head.

“Thank you.“

The words are too simple for what it means to him, but maybe that’s just as well.

Michael continues to watch him closely.

“I also want you to report anything significant you encounter. Including any serious danger you find yourself in.“

Gadreel feels his chest constrict, at once grateful and startled.

“Michael, I won’t break the conditions Kevin Tran gave me.“

Michael presses his lips into a stern line.

“I’m not asking you to. Nothing you do will reflect on your standing in Heaven; you have no standing in Heaven. You can’t return. But nothing in the Prophet’s sentence orders you to cut off all ties with other angels. You are still part of the Host and as such, I expect you to report to me. I won’t forbid anyone else from speaking with you, either.“

It’s as much a warning as a promise, of course. It means that anybody is free to seek him out and give him a piece of their mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s contact, it’s someone for whom he won’t have to pretend to be an entirely different species. It’s a chance to show himself as he really is, to prove himself-

He cuts off that line of thought. His own understanding was that he’s sentenced to anonymity so that he can’t prove himself to anybody, ever. So that he isn’t tempted to prove himself, because his last attempt didn’t end all that well. But Michael is right. Kevin spoke about his life among humans. He never forbid him from meeting angels, as long as he doesn’t allow himself to get entangled in anything big.

He can be careful.

There’s no need to involve Kevin Tran again, to ask him. The Prophet deserves to be rid of his once-murderer as quietly and quickly as possible. It is only kind.

He nods.

“As you wish.“

“Good. I will see you again.”

In the blink of an eye, Michael spreads his wings. Gadreel flinches when he realizes he’s able to perceive them only peripherally, an impression of movement and vastness rather than a clear image. An echo reaching through broken and empty pathways into the core of his being that somehow, impossibly, remains an angel.

If Michael notices his reaction, he doesn’t dwell. The next wingbeat carries him away, leaving Gadreel to ponder the nature and limitations of mercy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Gabriel captured, Michael has a few uncomfortable questions to ask.  
> So does Gabriel.
> 
> Spoilers to mid chapter 35 of the main story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer. Michael’s POV
> 
> I have the need to mention that Michael’s view on pagan magic isn’t my own. XD

The Bunker’s dungeon is bleak; bleaker, in a way, than the warehouse they took Gabriel from. It’s heavily warded against anything that might want to reach anybody imprisoned here from the outside, the magic now supplemented with equally heavy barriers designed to keep an archangel in, the best they could create on a relatively short notice. The result can’t be anything other than oppressive, even after they untangle the binding that held Gabriel during their travel.

When they are finished, Gabriel stands before them, shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets, eyes downcast more often than not.

Michael wonders if it’s a sign of trust that he doesn’t force himself to appear chipper and alert, or if he’s too tired to pretend. Despite all the spellwork on him, Gabriel still had to pull his weight so they could fly him here. In addition to his efforts to resist Metatron’s influence, it’s no surprise the exhaustion is setting in.

“How do you feel, Gabriel?“ Lucifer asks softly.

Gabriel’s mouth twists.

“Like shit.“

The rawness of the reply has Michael worried for him even more. It’s not like Gabriel to let an opportunity for a colourful metaphor pass like that.

Lucifer must share the notion because he scowls next to Michael.

“I swear, brother, I will find a way to free you.“

Gabriel lifts his eyes to him.

In the silence, Lucifer doesn’t cringe, but Michael feels him freeze under that stare, undoubtedly waiting for another reminder that his protectiveness comes too late and unwelcome.

“I’ll hold you to that,“ Gabriel says instead and lets his gaze fall again to the floor somewhere off to the side. “Stop by in the meantime sometime, will ya?”

Lucifer doesn’t quite let his expression go soft. Gabriel wouldn’t thank him for it. “Sure. What was it you wanted before? A TV?”

Gabriel glances at him and smirks, a little spark returning to him. “Nah. It’s a connection with the outside. Wouldn’t want to mess the wards now, would we?“

Lucifer smiles faintly, approving. “Books, then?“

“Sounds about right. You know my tastes, Lucy-boy.“

To Michael’s mild surprise, Lucifer nods. “I do. I’ll find something for you.“

“The sooner the better,“ he gets instead of thanks.

Lucifer gives him a glare, his posture too loose and relaxed to make it anywhere close to convincing.

“Don’t push it, little brother.“

Gabriel just grins at him. Michael half expects him to provoke Lucifer further, as he once would, but it doesn’t happen. Whether that’s due to Gabriel’s exhaustion or remaining caution Michael isn’t sure.

Neither is Lucifer, or so it seems, because when the teasing doesn’t come, he falters, then straightens, a hint of his old cold pride draped around him like an armor, and turns to leave.

Gabriel watches him go, expression unreadable and bodylanguage masked with fatigue. Then he looks at Michael, and there it is, the stiffening of his shoulders, the wariness in his eyes.

Idly, Michael wonders how it happened that Gabriel thinks he needs to be more alert around him than around the brother who killed him.

He gives their surroundings a pointed once-over.

“Is this really better than what you could have in Heaven?“

“Sure is,“ Gabriel replies instantly. “Metatron won’t go after me here until he’s out of options, remember? Besides, in Heaven you don’t know how many angels are still on his side, or who they are. Easier to keep me here. On that matter, Castiel’s clean?“

It’s a relief to hear Gabriel has other reasons than just his stubborn refusal to return to Heaven.

“Far as we can tell. Still I’ll recommend others not to let him visit you alone.“

Gabriel lifts one corner of his mouth. “The more the merrier, anyway.“

There’s something about the way he says it, something disconcerting that Michael cannot read. But then, there’s so much twisted in Gabriel nowadays, compared to the brother he once knew. Some of it is the gnarled darkness of pagan magic, but most of it, he suspects, can’t be explained away so easily. Gabriel is defensive, too many jagged edges thinly veiled by humor.

Michael wishes he had something nice to say to him, but these aren’t the circumstances.

“Gabriel.“ He picks his words carefully, but there’s no way to soften the blow. “I find it hard to believe you didn’t suspect Metatron did something to you. Wasn’t there anything to warn you?“

“Nah. Nothing.“

The reply is just a little too fast, too casual. Too readily given.

“You knew I’ll ask.“

There’s a twitch of a grimace from Gabriel, nothing more.

“Sure thing. Makes sense you’d ask. Especially me.“

“What is that supposed to mean?“

Gabriel sighs, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. “Let’s not, okay? We both know what’s your opinion on me.“

Michael frowns. The truth of the matter is, his brother remains bitter, closed off, an enigma.

“I’m not sure we both know the same thing.“

Gabriel meets his eyes.

“Irresponsible, unreliable. Tainted, fallen in more ways than Lucifer ever managed because he at least still played his role. Actually, you could say he played it to the hilt.“

Michael refuses to fall for the distraction. Lucifer probably would have, but Michael isn’t the one who struck Gabriel down. Though he knows he could have been, if Gabriel stood in his way instead.

None of which makes Gabriel less beloved by either of them.

He briefly ponders telling him as much, then realizes he did become distracted after all. It seems the only way to not give Gabriel an opportunity for an evasion is to give him nothing to work with, so he does, considering the situation in silence.

“What? Too close to the truth?“ Gabriel challenges after barely a few seconds.

“Part of the truth, perhaps,“ Michael allows. “The rest of it being more favorable than you think.“

“Aww, Mikey, you flatterer.“

Michael doesn’t grace that with a response.

Yes, Gabriel is good at evasions. He learned from the best. Unlike Lucifer, though, he isn’t above outright lying, as evidenced by him donning the mask of a pagan god for millennia. He is no master strategist, but he is a trickster, always was; making backup plans to get out of trouble is a survival skill he gained early and only honed since. But he is also an archangel, created to be in charge, to take the initiative. To lead, and if that’s not possible, then to solve any given problem on his own.

“You suspected,“ Michael states. “That’s why you made sure only the less crucial parts of the plan depended on you. Why you were willing to weaken yourself by resurrecting the Prophet. Maybe even why you supported Gadreel, who had a better chance of taking you out if needed than either of us.“

Gabriel’s eyes flash.

“Or I just thought the kid deserves another chance after we all failed him so spectacularly. And maybe I didn’t want everything to hang on me. I’m not a weapon, Michael. Not anymore. Not Dad’s, and especially not yours.“

“None of which refutes what I just said,“ Michael notes calmly.

Gabriel throws his arms up.

“Why do I even bother? You’ll think what you want anyway.“

Michael doesn’t respond. It used to be enough to make Gabriel crack: a good, long, unwavering stare of the eldest brother who knows already and only waits for the admission. He’d had plenty opportunities to perfect it.

Turns out some things don’t change. Gabriel quickly loses his nerve, shoves his hands back into his pockets, shifts under the piercing gaze. Holds on a little longer, then jerks his shoulders.

“I didn’t suspect this, okay? I lost some time when Metatron had me. The first time it happened, I woke up with my wings… like this. I figured, Metadouche was working on some way to bind my powers, maybe take them for himself. And yeah, the rescue was far too easy, but the worst I thought he’d planned was to undercut me at a critical moment. So I made sure there’s not much of a critical moment and not so much to undercut. Worked out in the end, didn’t it?“

“You should have told us.“

“So what?“ Gabriel scoffs. “So you could treat me as the weakest link?“

“Gabriel. You were the weakest link.“

“And how was I supposed to know that, huh? It could have been any of us! You think I had a reason to trust any of you? You know what? On the scale from ‘came to work in my pajamas’ to ‘ruined the world’, I still rank about the lowest out of us all! So don’t tell me I should have let you decide what to do!“

So Michael was right about Gabriel still being an archangel at heart.

Maybe he should be glad Gabriel doesn’t wish to lead. It’s clear which one of them holds the higher rank – or would hold if it wasn’t for Metatron’s manipulation – and Gabriel isn’t the kind of authority Michael would find easy to follow if it came to that.

Smart, yes, and beloved, but too unpredictable.

“What do you intend to do once you’re free, little brother?“

Gabriel grimaces.

“Are you going to ask all the questions I avoided you for, now that I can’t send you away?“

Michael gives the question due consideration.

“Probably.“

Gabriel snorts, then studies him for a moment, for once not hiding the clever, complicated being he is under flippant attitude.

“I don’t know. I’m not returning to Heaven, but the old gig kind of lost its charm, too. I guess I’ll be between jobs for a while, see if anything interesting turns up.“

It sounds honest. It may be another evasion.

“I don’t want to lose contact with you again.“

Gabriel thinks about it for a second or two.

“Okay.“

It doesn’t escape Michael’s notice that it’s more of an acknowledgement than a promise. Not for the first time he wishes Gabriel talked with him openly, instead of in barbs and accusations and references Michael cannot understand. Maybe it’s time to push, now that the worst of the crisis is over, but he isn’t sure it’s wise to do so while Gabriel is captured.

Captured and exhausted.

“I’ll return when I have any news on Metatron’s whereabouts,“ he promises by way of closing the conversation for now. He can see his younger brother slowly sagging, but as much as he’d prefer the opposite, it’s clear Gabriel won’t rest as long as he is around.

“Okay. No, wait.“

Michael pauses, giving Gabriel his best approximation of a questioning glance.

“Sam said everyone is alive. Even Gadreel?“

Michael withdraws, leaving his expression blank.

“Not for long.“

The shift in Gabriel’s stance is subtle, but it tells Michael the topic is important enough for him to pay attention a little longer. He wishes it wasn’t.

“Why?“

“You know the law.“

“I know all the laws,“ Gabriel reminds him pointedly. “Not even you are fanatic enough to enforce every single one to a dot, you wouldn’t have a Host left to rule. Why this one?“

Because Gadreel managed to set his value against someone even more infinitely precious, Michael knows he can’t say. He keeps his posture and face straight, just barely stopping his wings from fanning out and up in a gesture of authority. It would be in poor taste to parade in front of his crippled little brother.

“Kevin Tran is going to be in danger again once the news of his resurrection spread enough. I must send a clear message that no threat to him will be tolerated.“

“That, or you need to get rid of the angel who knows how shitty judgment you have.“

The accusation leaves Michael speechless for a good long while.

“Was that a provocation or do you really think that of me?“

Gabriel shrugs.

“Take your pick.“

It occurs to Michael that Gabriel was never around when Michael admitted his errors.

“Gabriel… Every angel in Creation knows by now that I’m not infallible. There is nothing to hide anymore.“

Gabriel whistles, low and wondering. “Never thought I’ll see the day.“ Strangely, it seems that there is more approval than mockery in the statement. “Feels better, doesn’t it? Not having to be perfect all the time.“

Michael tilts his head, the way he saw Castiel do. The gesture comes oddly natural.

“Not really.“

“Huh. Anyway. Ever thought about a pardon?“

“Yes. I can’t afford it. The Prophet must be protected at all costs, but it’s not only that. Heaven is far from stabilized. I can’t rule the way I used to – I’m not sure I would want to if I could – but I can’t become too lenient, either. This chaos needs to end, or it won’t be good for anybody.“

“Funny. That’s what Gadreel gave me as the reason for killing the kids. Trying to prevent chaos. Sounds to me awfully like trying to prevent free will.“

“Angels weren’t created to have free will.“

Gabriel snorts.

“Then I guess Dad left a few bugs in the design.“

It’s about then that Michael remembers Gabriel was always the best at driving him to exasperation.

“Gabriel, I can’t let our siblings do anything they want. They don’t even know what they want.“

“And whose fault is that, huh? Who did his best to take every decision for himself ever since Dad left the building?“

“What do you want me to say? Do you think I want to kill him? He’s my close brother, too!“

“I want one of you blockheads to realize that maybe, when you don’t want to kill somebody, just _maybe_ it means you shouldn’t kill them!“

“It’s not that simple.“

“So make it simple!“

The insight is sudden.

“Is that why you left – no, why you took up your new role. To make it simple, crime and punishment. No need to overcome personal bonds to dispense justice, no need to face the consequences. The perpetrator slain, creatively. The victims, the innocent, the bystanders all left to deal with the mess. No authority ever demanded anything of you and you never had to explain anything to anyone, except perhaps sometimes to the condemned, as you saw fit.“

Gabriel stares at him mutely, white around the lips, every slumped line of his body gone taut.

“I don’t have that luxury, brother,“ Michael continues. “Every transgressor I ever judged I knew since the time they were created, and every time I make a decision I have to face the aftermath. Much harder to make things simple, then. I can’t let Gadreel walk and I’m not cruel enough to imprison him again. I can’t think of any other partial pardon that would be more merciful to him than death.“

“So how about you ask him?“ It lacks Gabriel’s usual energy; he probably knows as well as Michael that Gadreel won’t come up with anything, either. Won’t try to.

“I will. Anything he has to say, I will hear him out,“ Michael promises. “It’s the least I owe him.“

Gabriel’s mouth twists in some unreadable grimace, he looks to the side. Out of arguments, it seems.

Another stray thought comes to Michael, then. If their Father takes angels to Him after death because He loves them too much to let them be wiped out of existence, does it make execution a less severe punishment, or a tragedy so unbearable God Himself can’t stand it?

And if He spoke with obvious gentleness about Raphael, who for the longest time believed their Father is dead – a crime of faithlessness in its own right – what treatment awaits Gadreel, who believes God hates him?

He almost wishes for another crisis so that he could postpone the decision a little longer. But, no. It wouldn’t be fair to Gadreel, to let him teeter on the edge between hope and despair any longer. Given the state he’s in, and the rapidly calming situation, the chance he’d do something suitably heroic to justify a full pardon is infinitesimally small.

A pity Gabriel didn’t kill him. Let him go out the hero he once was, a protector. But then, it’s not a weight he wishes Gabriel to carry. Gabriel stopped himself short of killing him against impossible odds. Michael isn’t going to tell him how short. No need to tell him, ever, if Gadreel is long gone by the time they find out a way to free Gabriel.

A mercy killing, in more ways than one.

It doesn’t make it easier.

Gabriel glances back at him.

“Hesitating or stalling, Mikey?“

Both, but it’s not a truth Michael is willing to give.

“Stalling.“

“Sorry to hear that.“

Michael concedes the point with a nod. When he turns to leave, Gabriel doesn’t call him back.

It’s been a long time since he prayed for guidance with any hope of receiving it, but as he weaves his way from the dungeon to the library, where everyone else is probably gathered by now, he dares to address his Creator anyway:

_Forgive me, Father._ And then: _Be kind to Gadreel, please. He suffered enough._

A foolish prayer, that. Arrogant. He doesn’t know how God judges His children any more than he knows what He wants him to do. No comfort to be found here.

Defeated in his feeble attempt to avoid the full weight of responsibility, Michael does what he always does: he squares his shoulders and carries the burden as he must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautifully flawed angels. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated! Even if you have something to criticise and aren’t really sure you can make the comment constructive, every opinion counts.


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